Tales of Scrolleria. Anna B'hea and The Scribe

The beginning

I watch her standing beside her favorite tree, leaning into the wind. An aura of peace emanates from her slender frame. She's watching her kind being rallied together like sheep. Every month Main Characters or "Chosen" as they refer to themselves gather the Blank Slates for the choosing moon. Anna B'hea is a Blank Slate, a race of featureless humanoids, husks ready to be shaped, and molded by me and my kind The Writers.

Well, none of the races living in Scrolleria refer to us as such, Scribes and Gods we are called, and it is fitting to be called such. I am observing from a plane far removed yet very accessible to me, and we do use them for our stories. Crafting characters from The Blank Slates, making them into new Main characters or side ones, most of the time Main characters are altered after writers are done with their stories and new ones are being thought up by others

Oh, she is discovered by a group of chosen. Yet she is unaware of their presence as the four creep behind her. They weave behind the trees with grace slowly spreading to encircle Anna B'hea. If I was physically present I could simply remove the interlopes from this sanctuary. I can blow a gust into her face and wonder at what she will do.

The gust blows through the trees rustling the birds out of their nests. Anna turns to protect her eyes from the wind facing the chosen.

"Grab her!" Roars a long-haired man.

Anna B'hea rushes to the left dodging trees and bushes with ease. This is her home after all she knows every root and branch of this forest. She collides into another chosen head first knocking her to the ground trampling her. Her spirit is amazing to watch, so lively compared to the others, so perfect, and with my help, she will change this world.

The chosen struggle to catch up with her screaming blame at each other as I laugh watching Anna B'hea run faster than these chosen ones. With each chuckle the gusts of wind dance with the trees. She smiles as she clears the tree line into the Grey Marsh, a habit unique to her. She begins to slow from the knee-high much. Each step is planned, feet finding the solid stone, and lifting herself at angles to prevent her from sinking deeper. The muck becomes solid as she reaches the middle of the marsh.

Her feet wobble slightly regaining her balance on the dry land. She walks with confidence having avoided capture for now. A long dirt path snakes and farks into the marsh connecting it to the gilded marble city Salvatira. Passing through a towering tree's hollowed interior that marks the entrance to her village. A mistake for her and a blessing for me. The chosen are inside the village gathering up other Blank Slates in an organized fashion.

Her body becomes rigid with fear, rooting her to the ground. She starts to tremble from the sounds made by the chosen, their primal howls echo inside her ears. I wish they would contain themselves. The uproar masks the approach of her pursuers.

"There she is, Raiphi throw the net. A soft voice demands.

A thick metal net falls over Anna, it's weight pushing her to the ground.

" Good Moon, Defected." A thick boot slams into Anna B'hea's face.

As she falls from consciousness so do I.